


Spock X Reader - All My Fault

by writeyouin



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Mission Fic, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 09:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyouin/pseuds/writeyouin
Summary: Prompt request: “It’s my fault we’re in this mess.”When on a mission, you put Spock's life in danger. Can the two of you make it out alive and unscathed?





	Spock X Reader - All My Fault

You tugged the issued Starfleet snow-jacket closer, cursing that no matter how many times Starfleet improved its materials, it was still never warm enough for the icy tundra’s that you were sometimes sent to on missions. Had you been with anyone else but Mr Spock, you might have complained for the camaraderie of hearing it back; as it was however, Mr Spock never complained about anything. Still, the two of you had completed the mission, him as a Science Officer monitoring the planets sudden shift in climate, and you as a Security Officer, acting as protection. Your teeth chattered through the balaclava and you did your best to think of the Enterprise’s comforting warmth as you made your way ever closer to the drop-site where the shuttle would take you back; you wished that you could just beam aboard as usual, but Scotty was taking his time recalibrating the system. Couldn’t he have waited for a tropical planet to do so?

Your communicator went off and you struggled to open it through shaky, gloved hands. Your heart plummeted at a nearby distress signal.

“Mr Spock,” You said, glad for the headset in your issued balaclavas so you needn’t shout, “I’ve located a distress signal, approximately two klicks south. Red alert. Instructions sir?”

Spock processed quickly, making the logical decision, “Return to the Enterprise as planned cadet. We can recruit a relief team there and return when Mr Scott has repaired the transporter.”

You clenched your fists anxiously, “They could be dead by then Sir, if they aren’t already.”

“Return to the ship Cadet. That’s an order.” Mr Spock stopped walking when there was no response. He turned, to find you already running South. “Cadet (L/N), return immediately, do you read?”

His calmness irritated you as you ran to the distress beacon. “Sorry Mr Spock,” You panted as the cold air stabbed at your lungs, putting your training and endurance to the test. “Someone has to help.”

Spock chased after you, finding it difficult to keep pace in such a cold climate when his species was adapted to the warmth; what were short stabs of discomfort to you were excruciating breaths of death to him. He wasted no time on words, annoyed by yet another human who valued emotion over logic; why was the Enterprise full of them? Just once couldn’t he be paired with someone like Sulu or Uhura? They were at least apt to follow orders, even if they questioned them.

Just over twenty minutes later, Spock followed you into the sub-zero depths of a small buried ship, which had clearly crashed long ago as icy caverns had formed around it, claiming it as a tomb. You sagged on the floor in front of an ancient beacon, feeling defeated that there was nobody to rescue and you’d endangered your life for nothing.

“You disobeyed a direct order Cadet,” Mr Spock said sharply from behind you.

Your heart jumped in your chest, “Mr Spock! Why’d you follow me? You’ve gotta get back to the ship.”

“You are on my landing party, it is my duty to protect you. Now, back to the drop-site. Immediately.”

While some would argue that Mr Spock had no emotions, you knew better and the sharp edge to his voice did not bode well for you. You marched to the ship’s half sunken entrance, saving your energy for the long walk back, when the floor shook and both you and Mr Spock fell to the ground, the resulting avalanche burying the ship with the two of you in it. If your heart had jumped before, it practically stopped now as the implications of your actions sunk in. Mr Spock had said he’d come to protect you, but as a security officer, you’d now failed at protecting him; the two of you were trapped, with no power, in sub-zero temperatures, and as you tried to contact the Enterprise, it quickly became clear that under so much snow, you had no communications either. What had previously been a routine planetary check-up had just become a survival mission, and all because you couldn’t follow orders; great.

* * *

It had been almost an hour in the icy cavern that had once been a ship and Spock had done everything in his power to boost his communicator’s signal, to no avail; there was still no outside contact with the Enterprise, though by now you knew the ship would be scanning the planet surface since the two of you hadn’t checked in. While Spock did that, you fought the onslaught of cold, using your phaser to shoot through the ice and reach the broken ship’s control panel; maybe from there you could do something, and if not, the steam was at least a nice reprieve from the bitter cold that would soon overwhelm you.

You spun around quickly, aiming your phaser, fully alert at the sound of a loud thud. You dropped the phaser in shock upon seeing Spock crumpled on the floor. You sat down on your knees next to him, pulling his head onto your lap. “Mr Spock,” You said loudly, forgetting the headset you wore. “Mr Spock, can you hear me?”

You tore off his balaclava upon hearing only his thin, struggling breaths in response. “Oh God. What have I done?”

Mr Spock’s eyes were glassy, staring through you, his skin was the palest of greens, a sign of hypothermia in Vulcans. You’d held Mr Spock to your human standard, expecting that he would get cold at the same rate as you, but that was a foolish mistake; Vulcan was a naturally hot planet, it only made sense that its inhabitants wouldn’t survive the cold as long as humans.

“Mr Spock, you just wait, I’m going to fix this, I promise,” You cried, though your tears froze to your face, stinging it with their sharpness. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault we’re in this mess.” You had no idea whether he could hear you, but you felt you had to speak anyway, more to delay the fear that was clawing at your mind. It was your job to keep Spock alive, and one way or another, you would do that.

After resting Spock on the floor, you ran to the ship’s control panel that you’d cleared of ice only moments ago, tearing it open to find the mass of wires and circuitry beneath. While you were no expert in engineering, you knew enough of the basics to locate the heating panels on an old ship like this. Tearing them up with an army knife you kept in your pocket, you attempted to hot-wire the ship, to at least make that one part of it come to life. The ship’s lights came on briefly before flickering out as you held the power wire to the temperature control wire.

“Come on,” You roared at it, risking another glance back at Spock, who’s head had rolled back unceremoniously, his chest hardly moving at all. “Son of a bitch, if you don’t come to life and heat up, I’ll kill you myself,” You spat at the heating panel.

Reluctantly and after several failed attempts and three electric shocks that burned your hands, the ship begun to warm up, though not fast or hot enough.

You pressed your lips against Spock’s forehead, knowing it was the closest way to measure temperature when your flesh was also icy, or at least that’s what you’d heard. He felt like death warmed up. You put his balaclava back on, cutting a small gash for his lips so he could breathe unhindered. Then, as a last resort, you pulled your own coat off, shivering uncontrollably as the jumper beneath did little to preserve your own heat. You placed the coat around Spock’s body, keeping it in place by wrapping yourself around him tightly. You knew that unless a rescue team came soon, Mr Spock would die, but you’d done everything in your power to save him, even knowing that the cost would be your own life, for without your coat, it wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes for you to freeze to death, and that was being generous; you’d probably die much sooner.

When at Starfleet Academy, it had been drilled into you that your job was to be a security detail. You would fight where diplomacy failed to save the life of anyone within the Federation, and you would die if it would save the life of another. Funnily enough, you’d always thought that you’d go out in a blaze of glory, not slowly and painfully, as you felt your body parts go numb, one by one.

“I-It’s ‘kay S-S-Spock. Y-ou 'gon live,” You managed through chattering teeth, your dying whisper. ’ _At least_ ,’ You thought, as your eyes closed, and darkness came to snuff out your light, ’ _my last act was worth dying for._ ’

* * *

’ _Bones_ ’ McCoy hung over Spock as he woke up, “I’ll be damned, the green devil made it. Jim, he’s awake.”

Jim Kirk sighed in relief as Spock came to, in the med-bay, his glassy eyes that had stayed open the entire time, finally blinking. “Captain,” he said, ever-formal, “was the mission a success?”

Jim smiled, “Yeah Spock, it was.”

“And Cadet (L/N)?”

Now, it was time for Jim to frown, his gaze lowering to the floor before he met Spock’s eyes again, “(S)he’s the reason you’re alive Spock. We found you because (s)he somehow managed to power up that old ship you were in. It made the ship show up on our scanners, we were there within minutes. What we found… wasn’t good.” This was the one part of being a Captain Jim hated, delivering bad news and knowing that thousands, if not millions of lives depended on him. “(Y/N) kept you alive, giving you their own coat and hugging you close for warmth.”

Spock didn’t like what he was hearing. His Vulcan mind worked through the puzzle, putting himself in your place, where it would have been logical to save the person with a higher chance of survival, yourself. His human mind however, which he so often warred with, denying its very existence, surfaced, offering only dread that you’d perished; he had to remind himself of his meditations to keep the human thoughts from showing, though Kirk and Bones could see it all the same, having known Spock for so long.

“Is Cadet (L/N) dead, Jim?”

The use of Jim’s first name was enough to show Kirk that Spock was rattled, to say the least. He shook his head, motioning for McCoy to explain the rest.

McCoy pointed to a cordoned-off area at the back of the med-bay which was reserved for worst-case scenarios. There you lay, pale as the resting fairy-tale characters that got trapped in ’ _Sleeping Death_ ’, in the books that Spock’s mother Amanda, insisted on reading to Spock when he was a child, though he saw little sense in them at the time.

“(S)he’s in an induced coma,” McCoy explained, “until I’m sure that there’s no underlying damage to the internal organs or body. It shouldn’t take too long for the surface damage to repair, but as for the brain… we’ll be lucky if (Y/N) hasn’t gone brain-dead.”

Pain shot through Spock at the mere thought of that; to a Vulcan, the term  _'brain-dead_ ’ was one of the worst to be mentioned, for the mind was so precious, one of the only things worth living for, for without a mind to think, what is life? Nothing but a world devoid of meaning or reasoning. He couldn’t stand it if you lost life’s most precious gift, because of him. He’d heard you talking in the bunker, his hearing had been the last thing to go as his body shut down; he didn’t want you to think your last act, had been ‘ _your fault_ ’, as you’d put it.

Yes, the mission had been a success, but Spock wondered for the first time, at what cost?


End file.
